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How Things Have Changed

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"Mr. Weasley, how many people will be in there?" Harry asked before he opened the doors to a courtroom that was awaiting his presence.

"I'm not sure, Harry, I'm truly sorry," Mr. Weasley replied apologetically. "I cannot go in there. I'm not allowed. Will you be all right in there on your own?" Harry shrugged.

"I'll make do. Thank you, Mr. Weasley."

"Of course, Harry. And remember; You have nothing to be afraid of. You did nothing wrong. You protected yourself and your cousin from a Dementor." Harry nodded uneasily and Mr. Weasley clapped his shoulder before straightening up again. "Well, good. You'll be fine. This is all just procedure." With that, he swept away down the hallway that they had just come from. Harry took a deep breath to steady himself and opened the doors to see what seemed like a full Wizengamot. He sat down in the thronelike seat several feet below the Judge's desk(which was really just where Cornelius Fudge was sitting, clearly trying to attempt the holier-than-thou and the high-and-mighty looks and failing miserably).

After what felt like hours of annoyingly grueling accusations and questions, Harry left the courtroom without so much as a slap on the wrist. Mrs. Figg was truly a saint in his eyes, now. He had attempted and failed to gain Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's attention, but the old Professor clearly had no cravings for small talk with a student, as he had ignored Harry's calls.

~~~

"Wait, I've seen her before," Harry interrupted his friends at the Hogwarts Feast that began the new school term. He pointed his finger at a toadlike woman sitting at the staff table where Alastor Moody - Barty Crouch, Jr. dressed as Alastor Moody, actually - sat the year before. The new Dark Arts Professor was wearing a sickening amount of pink. Her makeup was all bright pink, her outfit, shoes, bow, and all. It made Harry's eyes hurt at the brightness. "She was at my trial."

"Is she the new Professor?" Ron asked after swallowing a mouthful of chicken leg.

"Seems like it," Harry whispered back.

"No, no, this is bad," Hermione said worriedly.

"Why?" Ron asked her. "What does it mean?"

"It means the Ministry's interfering with Hogwarts."

Harry looked up at the feeling of someone’s eyes on him. He immediately locked his eyes with a pair of glittering silver ones across the Hall.

Malfoy stared at him intently. Not necessarily maliciously, but intently. Harry blinked. Malfoy blinked back and sent him an annoyingly flashy smirk that did odd things to Harry’s stomach. He rolled his eyes and looked away, deciding to focus on the shininess of the House point system, his appetite forgotten for the afternoon. A piece of parchment and a quill appeared in front of him. Harry looked at Malfoy again, eyebrow raised. Malfoy scribbled something on a parchment by him, and the words appeared on Harry's paper.

Talk to me, they read in elegant, slightly slanted, swoopy handwriting. They disappeared when Harry finished reading them.

Why should I? Harry scribbled back, his messy handwriting looking like chicken scratch compared to Malfoy's.

I'm bored. Harry rolled his eyes again. He looked up from the parchment at Malfoy, who was staring at him with glazed over eyes.

No. We're not friends, Malfoy.

And who's fault is that? the elegant handwriting accused. Harry bit his cheek.

“Poncy git,” Harry muttered to himself. He scowled at Malfoy and flipped him an annoyed finger one last time before he set the parchment under his untouched plate.

Later, Professor Dumbledore announced that it would be in House Unity’s best interest if the four Houses were intermingled. Each house would send a fourth of their own to the other three. A fourth of the Gryffindors would be in Slytherin, a fourth in Hufflepuff, and a fourth in Ravenclaw. And one fourth would stay in Gryffindor Tower. And so on.

Dumbledore interrupted the students’ chatter after a moment. “You are also urged to sit at your alternative House table for the allotted time you are there, but not required.”

Harry thought nothing of it when he heard shuffling footsteps in the Hall. But he startled when someone yanked his arm up and pulled him out of the Great Hall.

“Malfoy! What the hell are you—”

“I get to decide when we're done speaking, Potter,” the boy growled. “Don't try to get away from me.”

Malfoy stood about two inches taller than Harry, and Harry was at even more of a disadvantage because he was now pinned up against a wall. Malfoy cast a Notice-Me-Not charm around them. Harry froze when he realized the placement of Malfoy's hands. One of them was planted flat on the wall by Harry's head, and the other was lying against his stomach, only the thin fabric of Harry's oversized shirt separating their skin.

“What did you overreact for?!” Harry hissed. “Back off, let me go!” He tried to shove Malfoy away, but the Slytherin just stared down at him intimidatingly with glazed eyes and refused to budge. “Malfoy, bugger off!” Harry pushed on Malfoy's chest halfheartedly.

Instead, Malfoy just leaned forward and rested his face in Harry's neck. Harry paused moving, confused, and, to his horror, a little turned on. Soft lips brushed against his throat and started moving up. Not kissing, but just ghosting over Harry's neck and jaw. He shuddered. Soon, he and Malfoy had their cheeks pressed flat against each other’s. Harry could feel Malfoy's breathing on his ear.

He jumped when he felt a tongue snake over his earlobe. “What are y—ohhh…” He lost his words when Malfoy bit his ear. Harry tangled his fingers in Malfoy's shirt tightly and leaned his head against the wall.

“I knew that you would make a noise, Potter,” Malfoy whispered, his voice thick. “Do it again.” He moved to Harry's neck and bit lightly on a bit of skin. Harry sucked in a breath and held it, not wanting to give Malfoy what he wanted. He failed when Malfoy slid his hand under his shirt and started teasing the lines on his stomach. He let out a shuddering gasp and tried to jerk backwards but just slammed his back into the stone wall instead. Malfoy bit down harder and Harry clapped a hand to his mouth to stop from crying out in shock. He tried to shove Malfoy away again, this time harshly, but Malfoy grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the stone wall next to his face.

“Malfoy, let me go!” Harry hissed. The blond tilted his head up to whisper in Harry's ear.

“Do you really want that, Potter?” he purred, almost seductively. He ghosted his fingertips across Harry's abdomen again. Harry tensed his stomach and tried wriggling out of Malfoy's grip.

You—”

Malfoy's hand moved from Harry's chest to his hip and gripped his side tightly. His slim fingers poked just barely under Harry's jeans and dug into the skin right above his arse.

“Do you really?” Malfoy asked quietly, moving to nip some more at Harry's jaw and neck. Harry's previously clenched fists loosened and he felt his face heat and heart beat faster. Malfoy stuck his tongue in the small dip of Harry's collarbone before sucking on it lightly. Harry felt himself start to get traitorously hard and he tried to move away again.

“Ah—Malfoy, please—”

“Please what, Potter?” Harry shuddered. “Say it.”

“L-let me go back!”

He whimpered when Malfoy placed open-mouthed kisses to his neck and jaw. Harry moaned softly and grabbed the back of Malfoy's silky blond hair and yanked his mouth away from the hollow of his neck. Malfoy was smirking but there was a high flush on his usually pale cheeks, tinting them an attractive rosey colour. Harry gulped.

“Damn it.” He pulled Malfoy’s face down and kissed him. Malfoy tugged Harry’s hips flush to his own and dug the pads of his fingers into Harry’s tender skin. He bit at Harry’s lower lip and pulled on it lightly, and delved his tongue into Harry’s mouth. His tongue easily wrestled Harry’s into submission but Harry didn’t care because he was snogging Draco Malfoy, his self-proclaimed school enemy, the son of a Death Eater, a prejudiced arse, and a lot of other things. And Harry liked it. He was enjoying kissing Malfoy.

He let his head fall back against the stone wall when Malfoy moved his head down and started sucking at the expanse of Harry’s neck and collarbone again. “Mmh—ah—Malfoy—why are you—doing this?” he gasped.

“Because,” the other boy murmured into Harry’s skin, “I want to. You fucking wore low-hanging pants that tease the eyes with your hips and stomach. What did you expect to happen in a school full of horny teenagers when you go around looking like you’re just begging to be fucked over the nearest surface?” Harry couldn’t hold back a moan at this admission. “And then your shirt that shows off your collarbone and shoulder. Even your eyes… your jaw… your mouth… your arse all on display. You go around in obliviousness looking like sex on legs and then act scandalized when someone pushes you against a wall and kisses you.”

Harry froze when people started leaving the Great Hall and passed them.

“He didn’t come back to the table,” he heard Hermione say worriedly. “He left with Malfoy, for some reason.”

“Yeah,” Ron’s voice replied. “Best check the Hospital Wing first.” Malfoy chuckled lowly against Harry’s collarbone.

“That’s not where we are,” he singsonged in amusement. His hands fell lower and subconsciously landed on the curve of Harry’s arse, but Malfoy didn’t make an effort to move them. He instead dropped to his knees and lifted Harry’s shirt up off his stomach with one hand. Harry’s breath hitched. Malfoy stuck his tongue in Harry’s naval and Harry whined lowly. The blond sucked on the skin on Harry’s stomach, biting it and laving over it where he thought it appropriate. Harry grit his teeth because he was so obviously hard from Malfoy and now he wouldn't be able to think of anyone except Malfoy while pulling himself off after what was happening with his bloody tongue. Harry moaned in a high pitch, almost girlish tone. He involuntarily arched toward Malfoy.

“Be patient, Potter,” Malfoy hummed against Harry’s exposed hip. “I’ll get to your little problem in a minute.” Harry’s eyes widened and he looked down at Malfoy in shock. Silver eyes flitted to his and Malfoy smirked up at him. “Unless, of course, you don’t want me to.”

“I—I didn't say that,” Harry said with a squeak. “I’ve never…”

“Harry ‘Sex on Legs’ Potter has never had a blowjob before?” Malfoy asked in surprise. Harry shook his head and blushed at the silly nickname. “You’ll like it.” He ran a teasing hand up the outside of Harry’s thigh and then the inside of it. Harry shivered at the feather-light touch. Malfoy mouthed down to the waistband of Harry’s jeans and looked up once more for a hint of resistance. Harry just swallowed heavily and stared back with half-lidded eyes. Malfoy returned his gaze to the tent in Harry’s trousers. His lips ghosted over the shaft of Harry’s erection. Harry gasped. Malfoy smirked up at him. “You’re so innocent, Potter.” Harry felt his cheeks burn and he averted his gaze.

“Why aren’t you?” he whispered in response. Malfoy just hummed happily and pressed his tongue flat against the outline of Harry’s cock. Harry jerked in shock and whined.

Malfoy,” he groaned.

“Good things come to those who wait, Potter,” Malfoy reminded him. He unbuttoned and unzipped Harry’s jeans, pulling them down to his knees.

Nothing happened for a moment, Malfoy just sat on the ground and stared at Harry’s cock with an unidentifiable expression on his face. Then the blond took it in hand and licked a wet stripe along the underside. Harry whimpered and Malfoy looked up at him. He opened his mouth and sucked the tip into it. Harry made a choked sound in the back of his throat and thrust his hips involuntarily, seeking more warmth and friction. Malfoy placed a free hand on his hip and held Harry in place as he took more of Harry into his mouth.

There was one thing that was clear not too far into Harry’s first ever blowjob, and it was that Malfoy was fucking brilliant at it. Harry tightened the hand he had in Malfoy’s hair and moaned. “Fuck, Malfoy, your mouth…” Malfoy pulled off and tongued at Harry’s slit. “Why are you so good at this?” Harry asked shakily.

“Let’s just say… I know I’m attractive and I know other people find me attractive—” He ran his tongue along the side of Harry’s cock. “—I’m not an innocent Gryffindor. Like yourself.” Harry groaned. “Hm. That being said—” Malfoy took him halfway down before coming back up again. “—There’s no reciprocation required… this time.”

This time?” Harry asked, aghast. He didn’t get to say anything else, because Malfoy slid his mouth down and up Harry’s length again like a damned god. “Fuuu—nngh—”

Malfoy made a pleased hum around Harry and Harry felt his tip vibrate with the back of Malfoy’s throat. He groaned. “Malfoy, Draco, shit—I’m so close…” Malfoy, the git, just sucked harder until Harry’s eyes rolled back and his hips jerked again, his cock spilling its release into Malfoy’s mouth.

Malfoy pulled off and wiped his swollen lips before leaning back on his heels and standing up, pulling Harry’s trousers back up over his hips with a smirk. Harry’s eyes widened when he realized that Malfoy must have swallowed his come and felt his face heat intensely.

“I’m not that innocent,” he mumbled halfheartedly, catching his breath. Malfoy rose an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Getting yourself off doesn’t count, Potter.”

Harry shook his head and took a step toward the Slytherin. “Just because I’d never gotten a blowjob, that doesn’t mean I’ve never done anything else.”

“Oh?” Malfoy leaned forward expectantly, his face only inches away from Harry’s. “What have you done, then?” Harry tugged Malfoy closer again by a belt loop in his trousers.

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “I’ve been told I’m good with my hands, though.” He unbuttoned Malfoy’s trousers and shoved his hand down them. He wrapped his fingers around Malfoy’s hard length, causing the blond to let out a strangled gasp. “For claiming to be experienced, you sure are sensitive.” He started stroking the soft foreskin and teased the ridge of Malfoy’s cock wickedly.

“Ah—Po—Pot—ah, fuck.” Malfoy wound his slim fingers in Harry’s hair and crashed their mouths together. Harry cupped the back of Malfoy’s neck and pried the soft pink lips apart with his tongue. Malfoy moaned softly and bit Harry’s lower lip.

“The charms…” he managed between kisses and gasps, “they’re not up anymore.” Harry hummed curiously.

“Then be quiet,” he dismissed easily.

It only took a few more firm strokes until Malfoy was coming in his pants and all over Harry’s hand while biting Harry’s lip. Harry pointed his wand at the mess, murmured a cleaning charm, and the evidence on his hand and in Malfoy’s pants disappeared without a trace. They stood just centimeters apart, catching their breath, and Harry finally regained enough sense to back away a few steps.

“I need to go,” he murmured quietly. “See you around.” He walked back toward Gryffindor Tower, where his things were thankfully still packed, very aware that there were probably bright red marks on his neck. He pulled the collar of his shirt up and wore a blush all the way back to the common room.

Once in his dorm, Harry changed and threw a warm red hoodie on because the hood would conceal his neck and dragged his trunk down to the Dungeons where McGonagall’s blasted slip of paper told him to go. Ron got to stay in Gryffindor Tower, the lucky bastard, and Hermione was going to Ravenclaw. At least Dean could suffer along with Harry in the Slytherin rooms for three months.